That Son of Mine
by Inudaughter Returns
Summary: In the old Hey Arnold movie, Mr. Green mentions his son. But what if his vegetarian son walks into his life again? Also, how can a butcher make a living in a city as big and modernizing as Hillwood?
1. Chapter 1

**This is one is a request for celock.**

Six days a week, or every day Mr. Green had always tended his shop. The merchant descended the staircase from his second floor apartment to the shop on the bottom floor. It was his life, and the life his own father and grandfather had shared. But it seemed not to be for his own son.

On this thoughtful day, Mr. Green pressed open a solid wooden door with a tarnished, jiggly brass handle. The butcher shop lay open- tranquil as the sunlight which filtered in through the dusty windows. Perhaps he'd start the day by giving them a polish. Mr. Green went to the sink a filled a bucket with soap and hot water. He dipped a soft, slightly rough linen rag into the water and let some of the water drip off of it, back into the bucket before he wrung it and pressed it against the window to stroke the glass in rough, firm, scrubbing circles.

The undiluted, golden-hued sunlight now flooded in, gaining in strength with the hour of the day. Mr. Green stood and admired his handiwork. Soon it would be time to open the shop. He heard the ticking of his ancient wall clock behind him.

As an after thought, Mr. Green used the soapy rag to give the taxidermied cow's head on the wall a bit of a light dusting. He then dumped the soap and water down the sink, rinsed his hands, and listened to the water in the drain to gurgle away. He turned off the tap with a mighty squeak and stared at the drain for awhile, the lips beneath his giant nose pursed in thought.

Through the window, Mr. Green could see Arnold and Gerald passing by on the street. Mr. Green gave them a wave through the windowpane then returned to his own thoughts. He was waiting for his own son.

The telephone on the wall rang. The phone's receiver was meaty- bulky enough to fit the butcher's massive hand. Mr. Green picked up the phone and wrapped the coiled cord away from his face far enough to press the phone against his jawbone.

"Hello?" Mr. Green growled out in his peculiar manner of speaking- so mellow and nasaled that his fierce voice came out quiet as if he was whispering to contain the roar his voice might become. There was the faintest of static on his ancient phoneline. Clear a pin transmissions had not happened within his building, yet.

"Hello, Dad?" a voice awkwardly begun before it turned to a practiced, crisp, polished, professional manner that was as full of dignity as it was empty of humility. The father's voice, by contrast, had been sucked out of breath, past grievances between him and his son weighing heavily on his mind.

"Yeah, Dad?" the voice on the phone pressed forward, growing in strength and force. "I got your message which you left with my secretary. I'd be happy to explain to you retirement portfolios. I have one, that I fairly understand, so I may be able to guide you through the process. But you really should be relying on a professional. Would you like me to send you a contact?"

"No, no, that's not really necessary," said Mr. Green. Where were the days gone when a son might rely on a son to take care of one's own aged father? It felt as if his boy implied to toss him to the wind. "I'd really like for you to sit down and talk with me about it. You know, father to son."

"Ah," came the heavy breath. Perhaps Mr. Green had said too much. That phrase had almost become forbidden between them for it always carried with it the weight of something Mr. Green had said until his son had become estranged from him. That the boy would inherit the shop some day and so he needed to dedicate himself to it. But the boy had chosen for himself a different path.

"Look, son," Mr. Green said awkwardly. "This isn't about me. This isn't about the shop. I'd know your opinion, son, about these modern things."

"Ah," the voice on the phone uttered, more agreeable. So many words hidden within an utterance. So many feelings and old war scars. But Mr. Green's son spoke up more openly than he had before.

"If you want my opinion," the son spoke as though he had won a great victory. "Then we'll talk. Yes, we'll talk. But I was curious also. You said sales were down?"

"Er, yeah," Mr. Green said awkwardly. He rubbed the back of his neck with his big, beefy hand.

"You said that last time we spoke. Have you considered… are you open to modifying your business plan? Would you like to change into a grocer's perhaps?"

"No, no, I don't wanna do that!" Mr. Green contradicted. "But while you're visiting maybe you can take a look at the old shop. Then maybe I can take you to some of the old haunts that are still open. Like Slaussen's. You always did like Slaussen's when you were a boy."

"Well..I have time for it," the man said. "Look my train is about to come in so I'll see you later. Alright?"

"Yeah, sure," Mr. Green replied. He listened to the dial tone for his son had hung up first.

Mr. Green might have turned his shop sign over to "open". But instead he took a moment to walk back upstairs. He walked through his kitchen, past the parrot, and the door to his own room. Mr. Green made his way to yet another door, sealed with dust. Mr. Green pressed it open.

Boxes of all kinds cluttered this closet. But from within Mr. Green recovered a box. Inside it, covered by a thin film of dust Mr. Green found an old photograph that lacked modern color. He dusted it off to see him and his son, standing next to one another, smiling together as they posed together at an Eagle Scout's rally.

How had things gone so wrong between them that they had become angry with one another? And where had all these years gone? Mr. Green polished the photograph with his elbow and set it down on a counter. Then he made his way back downstairs. He opened his shop.

After a time, Mr. Green closed his shop again, turning the sign over to read, "back in fifteen minutes." In truth, his trip might take longer than that. Gerald and Arnold were passing by his storefront again, sports gear in hand. The two boys threw Mr. Green a friendly wave and smile.

Sometimes, they say, the young throw hope to the old. For Mr. Green, this was certainly true. He discarded his butcher's apron for his nicest suit and made his way for a subway platform. Anxious, he waited at the the stop as a subway train rolled into station.

"G-line from uptown," the female train announcer said. "Next train, D-line to downtown, arriving in ten minutes."

The doors to the subway trained rolled back. There came a man from off the train wearing polished shoes and suit pants. But on his top was a vacationer's floral shirt. A tall, brunette wife and a raggedy two daughters exited the train with him. Mr. Green stared at his son and the two granddaughter he had never met. He cracked a smile.

"Hi. These must be the two girl's I've heard so much about! Ah, I've missed you sonny!" There was a bleeding truth in these words. Yet the gulf of years yawned between them.

"I hope you have a good visit," Mr. Green uttered with wistful hope.

"Yeah. I hope I do, too," the son said and the two locked eyes, an entire mountain's width from an embrace. But perhaps there was a way to make these hoped words, true. Perhaps Mr. Green could reclaim his son as his family. That is what he hoped. To be continued.


	2. Chapter 2

The sound of conversation cut into the calm shuffle of locals commuting back and forth along the side-walked street. Marty the butcher had a son named Matty. That is all Arnold could understand from the conversation Mrs. Vitello and his Grandpa Phil were having above the tufty locks of his head. Arnold lifted his gaze to the taller, elderly, gray-haired, sharp-chinned woman and studied her with intense interest. So she had known other children on this block, long, long before Arnold had arrived on it! That was a powerful thought. It seeped the neighborhood with yet more history. Arnold savored the knowledge, grateful to have stumbled along the old woman as she was recounting her memories on this sunscald afternoon.

"And Matty was the sweetest thing, wouldn't you know!" Mrs. Vitello said with a coy cheerfulness. "He would come into the shop from time to time and look at the flowers, just to see them. Matty liked flowers. And he loved those little candies that look like wafers. I always kept some on hand for when he visited."

"Yeah, drove the dentist bill up for sure!" Mr. Green grimaced as he paced up the sidewalk to join his two neighbors. Phil leveraged him a stare.

"Oh, Marty, eh? How's the son doing?" Mr. Green fidgeted by wiping of his hands with the apron he wore tied with short strings around his waist and looped around his neck to give him a bib on his upper torso.

"Eh, it sounds like he's getting paid a whole lot at that fancy job of his. But he's thin as a bean! I tried to make 'im flapjacks for breakfast but instead he's been eating tofu for every meal. Tofu patties with scrambled eggs whites, not the yolks mind you, tofu burgers with salad, and tofu burgers with fries! Bleh if you ask me! But whattaya gonna do? The boy won't touch a slab of meat! His wife and kids don't eat meat, either. So I'm gonna grab a good old meatball grinder with swiss from Sub King while I can."

"Ah, you could stand to lose a few pounds, Marty!" Mrs. Vitello shot at her neighbor as he disappeared down the street and into the door of a shop quite close to Arnold's home.

Also near to Arnold's home, in the first shop to the left of the alleyway where Helga liked to lurk to spy on Arnold, and where Arnold had his fire-escape, was a shoe repair shop. The big bold sign reading, "sole repair" hung over the window to the front. Currently, Helga stood below it, not lurking, but rather loitering about with Harold. Helga pressed her nose and fingertips against the windowpane to glance within the darkened space. The dull light of a lamp glew from deep within the store. After a moment, Helga pressed herself back from the window and tucked her fingertips into her armpits.

"Humph!" Helga muttered to her friend Harold. "Has anyone ever seen the guy who owns this shop? I know I haven't! Have you, Harold? Is it even open?" Harold gave his noggin a good scratch to jumpstart his memory.

"Nah! I ain't never seen 'im!"

"Humph!" Helga declared. "Curious! Mighty curious! For all I know, the owner is elves or somethin'!"

"Elves!" Harold gasped. He pressed his nose to the window and squinted inside the glass. But Helga gripped Harold's shoulder to coax him away from the shop window.

"It's just a fairytale, Harold! You know, the Elves and the Shoemaker?"

"Oh, yeah, I knew that!" Harold declared with a smug pride. Harold and Helga both turned then, to welcome a friend approaching them along the sidewalk.

"Hello, Harold! Hello Helga!" Arnold greeted the two fellow friends and students with a slight grin.

Helga locked her arms tighter to sniff with a louder, "Harumph!"

"What are you two doing?" Arnold asked them.

"Oh, we were just looking through this shopwindow!" explained Harold pointing. "Have you ever been inside? Who lives there?"

"Oh. Miss Dusana? She's very shy. I haven't seen her much. Maybe… once. But she seemed nice."

"Oh. So it isn't elves?" Harold asked with a child's earnest innocence.

"Elves?" Arnold tilted an eyebrow upwards.

"Oh, nevermind, Harold!" Helga remonstrated. She didn't like the appearance that they were both stupid, especially around Arnold. "We were just messing around. What are you doing here?"

"Following Grandpa. Hmm, I hope Mr. Green will be alright," Arnold mused as he peered through the glass of Sub King. The gloomy man was chewing down his meal with a pronounced frown on his face. "It sounds like he's having a rough time lately."

"You mean because his son is visiting?" Helga picked up. "What could you do about it anyway? It's none of your business!"

"Maybe not. But maybe… I'm curious. I think I'll introduce myself to him."

"Well, I wanna get a peek at what he looks like, too," Helga relented. It was not as if she could stop Arnold when he got enthusiastic about one of his crusades. His enthusiasm rolled him right past all objections.

Arnold wheeled about on his heel and walked past Mrs. Vitello and his Grandpa, who were still conversing. But Arnold and Helga both hesitated on the sidewalk outside the butcher's shop. Instead, Harold barreled right inside with a determined grin and his ballcap worn backwards. He strode inside as if he were about to make an offer to buy the place for himself. But as he stepped inside, Harold grew meaker in the presence of a tall, lanky adult.

"Uh, hello?" Harold mumbled. He stared up at the man who towered above him.

"Oh, hi, kids. Did you not read the sign? We're closed. My father stepped out for a few minutes."

"Oh, I work here!" Harold corrected him. "On fridays! I'm part-time. I'm Mr. Green's assistant!" Harold pointed proudly to himself.

"Oh, are you now?" the man mumbled, disaffected. "How very nice."

"Nice?" Harold made a disgusted look as he was patted three times on the top of his head.

"Look, I'm Arnold!" Arnold said before some strange disagreement could twist out of the conversation. "I'm a friend and neighbor of Mr. Green's. I've heard a lot about you, so I thought I'd say hello." After his eloquent speech, Arnold offered his hand to shake. Helga watched Arnold speak with equals parts admiration and poker face. She kept her hands tucked into her armpits as she waited in the back of the crowd. It was at times like these, in situations like these, that Arnold exerted a certain kind of dominance- a polite one.

"It's good to meet you, too, young man!" Matty Green said. "It's been a long time since I've been down here! Things have changed and a whole lot has stayed the same. Imagine my surprise when I found out my father had become a Selectman! Well, how is the neighborhood for you, young man? Do you like living here?"

"It's my home. And I feel pretty strongly about it," said Arnold. He lifted his hands up to his chest as he began to feel confessional. "The sirens go off more than we'd like, but it's a good place. With good neighbors. Like Mr. Green. I've known your father since... Well forever. Grandpa used to bring me here when I was still a little unsteady walking. We buy all our meat here."

"Hm," the tall man before him uttered thoughtfully. "A loyal customer, huh? Look, I know it's not my shop, and I have no interest in inheriting it, but my father is my father and I worry about him sometimes. How's the business? What do you think of it? Are there ways you think it can be improved?"

"You seem to know a lot about it," Arnold observed. Matty politely handed Arnold a business card to look at. The boy read it silently.

"Wow. So you're a manager?"

"Of a small department," the man folded his hands into his pockets with a touch of misery. "I can't run a business, myself, but I have a lot of experience with inventory, among other things. I work in one of the offices downtown."

"Hmm. You should share some of your experience with your dad," Arnold remarked pointedly. He tucked the card into his seemingly bottomless pocket.

"Ah!" the man sighed with heartfelt disappointment. "I have. I know things that might be useful. But my father doesn't listen."

"What are you trying to achieve?" Arnold asked. The directness of such questions is like a dagger to the heart. It makes one flinch with the forceful, truthfulness of it.

"Hmm. Well, one thing I know for certain is I'll never be able to convince him to stop him from selling meat. I don't really want him to. But I do want him to modernize, at least in little ways. Like installing a modern cash register. Did you know he still doesn't take credit cards?" The man puzzled over the notion of how old-fashioned Mr. Green was. But Arnold didn't.

"No, he doesn't."

"And it's not just that. It's the inventory, too! He does everything by hand without a computer. As if that wasn't enough, he sells the same old kinds of meat he has all his life. He doesn't have imported sausage, or organic, or free-range, or unusual, gourmet options, either. Or have a customer loyalty program."

"Well, Mr. Green does have a customer loyalty program, sorta!" remarked Arnold. "Every once in awhile, he'll throw in a free porkchop or something for us."

"Well, that would be helpful if he advertised for it. It's a wonder he's still in business in these modern times. Margins are tough. But I guess I've said enough," Matty said loosening his tie a touch with his fingertip. Perhaps the thought of the disagreements he had with his father had caused him to become hot under the collar.

"Maybe all you need to do is tell your father exactly what you told me!" Arnold remarked, veering into dangerous territory. Matty might have grown irked. "Well, he is good at what he does, and he knows quality meat. We respect him for that. And it's good to meet you…"

"Matty!" the man smiled politely and offered his hand to be shook once again. Then he lifted the shoulder of his suit coat slightly and dropped them to straighten his blazer for a crisp appearance.

"So how was this place for you growing up?" Arnold shot back. Matty looked down at the kid before him in astonishment. Where had this level of maturity come from?

"Oh, it was fun. I remember eating popsicles with my Dad while we both sat on the back loading dock. He'd keep a box stocked in the cooler just for me. The kids of the neighborhood were great. Oddly enough, my class was all girls though, with only two boys! Imagine that! It didn't help that May, Merin, and Miranda were triplets." The regale into the past might have continued on except the shop bell tinkled. Mr. Green stepped inside.

"Oh, Dad," Matty said an octave colder and more reserved than he had been before. "I don't know how the sound of that shop bell doesn't get on your nerves. It always did for me."

"It's classic and it sounds like money!" Mr. Green countered with reflexive habit. Then the man caught himself. "Look, I don't wanna fight. I want this visit to come off well, so whattaya think? We could go to a Chinese restaurant tonight and you can get some of that Buddhist's special stuff, huh?"

"That sounds delightful!" Matty Green observed. But it still sounded a lot like he was speaking to a stranger. The words were stiff like the straw of a broom. Then he turned and spoke to Arnold much more warmly and kindly.

"Hey, Arnold. Are you here to buy some cuts of meat?"

"Uh, no Mr. Green," Arnold shook his head side-to-side. "I was just saying hello."

"Me, too!" Harold muttered, humbly. "See you Mr Green! See you on Friday!"

"Bye, Harold!" Mr. Green numbly watched his youngest friends stroll out to the street, leaving him in the presence of his equally wary son. Why couldn't he and his son get on as well as that? He and Arnold and Harold were friends. The boys respected him. If only he could get his own son to feel that way about him!

Arnold didn't see much of Mr. Green that week. But on Friday he greeted Harold as the boy strutted off to help Mr. Green at work. The afternoon was warm and sunny, so Arnold listened to a radio on his stoop. He was still out there, hanging out, now with Gerald, when Harold exited the shop. Mr. Green locked up shop for the day, and yet instead of heading upstairs the man went for a walk down the street. He handed a paper-wrapped package to Mrs. Vitello, who was just now waving to a customer and turning over her "open" store sign to "closed". She received the gift with a grateful nod. Even if they argued a lot, Mrs. Vitello and Mr. Green were neighbors. That meant something to them.

Mr. Green continued on. He had left his butcher apron behind him in the shop, and it was different to see him without it. It made him look like Marty the man instead of Marty the butcher, a man who looked down at his feet sometimes. He stopped before Arnold. Another neighbor! That was exactly who he wanted to greet in these times of uncertainty.

"Oh, hi Arnold! Hi Gerald!" Mr. Green greeted. "Having fun, boys?"

"Um, um, yeah!" Gerald said, snapping his fingers to a song playing on the radio. "Sure am, Mr. Green!"

"And staying out of trouble? That's good boys! I'm proud of you!"

"How about yourself? How's life treating you?" Arnold turned the radio down so that he could here Mr. Green's answer better. Gerald gave his friend an annoyed look. That had been a great song!

"Ah, well I ain't gonna lie to you, Arnold! It's tough right now! My son's come over to stay for the week but these first few days have been tense, real tense. I don't know what I expected, but well, maybe I'd hoped that my boy and I could come to some sort of a truce so we'd speak again. Only we're not talking much. I get the sense that the boy still doesn't like me much!" Mr. Green reflected on his own words, sadly.

"I spoke with your son the other day!" Arnold disagreed firmly. "I don't think he hates you or anything! It just seems like you and he have some disagreements with one another."

"Do we ever!" Marty Green lifted his arms and eyes to the heavens as if he might say a prayer to them. "It began small, when he was a young teenager. Sure, some dads and their sons disagree on things, but not as much as us! First it was about eating beet greens. Then it was about the shoes he was wearing. And somehow we started disagreeing about everything under the sun. Every, stinkin' thing! Meat. Politics. Religion. Good old fashioned courtin' versus his new-fangled notion of 'dates'. And later when he went to school we'd argue about economics, like I don't know how to run my own store!" Mr. Green heaved a sigh. "I tell you, Arnold, I may be a stubborn old man, but I just can't accept my own flesh-and-blood son giving me lectures all the time like I'm some sort of ignorant boob. I mean, it all started out swell! When Matty was young, we lived in the shop, a real family! We were close, real close! The meat shop provided for all of us, and Matty respected that. But then when he got to grade school, old Vine Street just wasn't big enough for Matty. He always dreamed of being a big shot and moving uptown, and now I guess he's got what he wanted. But how can a man upend his roots so easily? I just don't get how he can walk away from the family's past as if it meant nothing!"

"Well I'm not Matty, so I can't really speak for him, but I'd guess his family's past doesn't' mean NOTHING to him. From your story, it just seems like he's an adventurous spirit."

"Yeah, that's one of his good points. The kid has gusto, I'll give him that."

"What exactly does Matty do?"

"Aw, he works in one of those offices downtown," Mr. Green described vaguely. "He works for some big corporation. Not like my little butcher shop. But he got in in his mind somewhere that he wanted to be a big shot, so that's his goal for life, I guess. It's not to cut and wrap meat. The thing that really took the cake was when he became a vegetarian and started saying bad things about the ol' meat plant on the docks! But I tell you, that boy should never look down on what put food on the table when he was growing up."

"It sounds like you've had a lot a disagreements," Arnold observed.

"A whole lot," Mr. Green said awkwardly. "Ah, but what can you do? I tried to be the best father I could when Matty was growing up. He just turned out… different."

"Well, I know it sounds crazy but maybe all that means is you did a good job as a parent, Mr. Green," Arnold smiled.

"It is?"

"Well, yeah, it seems like your son grew up confident and capable of making his own decisions."

"Oh, is he ever!" Mr. Green snuffed. "Look, Arnold, what am I going to do about him? I'm trying but things are so odd between us it's like an iceberg. How am I going to get through to him to show him I still care? To remind him once he was my son?"

"Hm," Arnold mused. He took on a thoughtful stare for only a few moments before turning his attention back to Mr. Green. "Well," Arnold pondered the riddle before him. "Is there anything in particular you know Matty likes? Something you shared together?"

"Well, ah, nothing in particular comes in mind. Except this is this one regret. It's kind of odd."

"A regret?" Arnold waited for the man to collect his thoughts.

"Well, yeah remember the red, rubber, plastic bouncing balls? They used to all come in only one color- red like a brick! But one day Matty and me we were at a shop in downtown Hillwood and they had the same ball in all different kinds of colors- blue, yellow, green, and orange even! Matty got really excited and wanted all of 'em. Only I told him he could have one. Then he could save up his allowance and buy another, later. So we bought the blue one. Only, when Matty saved up his allowance and went back to the store, they weren't selling the same thing anymore. He was really hurt by that. And I ask myself and wonder sometimes that if only I had bought Matty all four of the colors that day maybe he'd still be talking to me. Maybe he wouldn't be so angry with me! And if so those four balls would have been a real bargain!" Mr. Green heaved a sigh.

"Hm," Arnold thought. "Anything else you can think of? Anything you know Matty likes to eat?"

"Well, he used to like the pizzeria on the corner. Only he's a vegetarian now, so it'd have to be without meat if we ordered a pizza."

"Hm, I'm thinking we need a whole lot more than pizza Mr. Green! How about we all rent out the pizza parlor for the day, you know for a reunion party? I'm sure it would be great!"

"Hm, well there are a few people round in the neighborhood, still, who knew Matty as kids," Mr. Green observed. "Some of them were even in his old troop."

"Great!" Arnold grinned. "Another thing, do you know the plastic bouncing balls they sell in the big grocery stores? The ones they keep in a big wire, crate?"

"You mean the ones they ship from overseas? Yeah, I know about 'em." Marty Green blinked.

"Well, I've got this idea! It's a long shot, but you know, I think it's worth a shot!" Mr. Green waited patiently for Arnold to explain his idea.

It was a gutsy move to bring Arnold's idea into fruition. Neither Mr. Green nor Arnold could tell what the reaction of Mr. Green's son would be for certain. But to their credit, they pressed ahead. As soon as time permitted, Mr. Green stood upright between the tables of a pizzeria. The restaurant was empty, save of himself, his son and his family, Arnold, Gerald, and all of his son's childhood friends that he had been able to find. The smell of baking bread and melted cheese wafted in the air, teasing the senses. With streamers strung overhead and brilliant blue balloons bobbing silently, Mr. Green stood expectantly. He held his breath.

"Well, son, thank you for coming!" Mr. Green said. "Now, I wanted to celebrate your visit here from your classy life in uptown with style, so I prepared a little surprise for you. Surprise!" At this cue, Arnold and Gerald pulled open enormous, ribbon-wrapped boxes.

"Think fast!" Gerald winked. The two boys swiftly threw inexpensive, inflated plastic balls to every guest in the room. Both Arnold and Gerald tossed plastic balls at Matty so quickly, the man had to drop each ball to the ground to catch the next one. Soon, there was a small pile rolling at his feet. Two young girls, Matty's daughter's frolicked with the toys, shrieking with delight.

"Well, this is a surprise," Matty chuckled lightly. Still wearing a crisp suit, he turned to his father, a twinkle of pleasure in his eye and yet a wrinkle of confusion stenciled across his face. Mr. Green was similarly nervous. He fidgeted as his grand daughters spun and flopped into a pile of loose plastic, bouncy balls.

"Ah, here she comes!" Marty Green gushed with a relieved breath. A smiling, middle-aged waitress in a blue and white plaid apron came out to set an enormous pizza down on the table. Adult guests clapped politely and smiled.

"More artichoke and feta pizzas!" the restaurant's cook belted out with more cheer than his guests. He rested two more enormous pizza trays on the table. Men in business suits, men in fish aprons, and men in casual shirts all dined on the hot, gooey pizza slices. Matty's wife dutifully chopped a slice into smaller pieces for her young children. But Mr. Green's son looked down at the pizza with a frank expression of astonishment. For a moment, he rested a hand above his heart.

"Wow, Dad," Matty said. "I'm touched! Thank you! This means a lot to me! Not just for the pizza, but because well, you remembered I don't eat meat. That means more to me than anything that you accept me, for, well being a vegetarian."

"Ah, well, Matty," Mr. Green said. He rested one stout hand on his thinner, taller son's shoulder. "Of course I accept you! You're my son! And it doesn't matter if I approve or not, that doesn't change the fact that you're my son!"

"Thanks, Dad!" Matty wiped a tear from his eye. He clasped his father's hand in a firm, cross-armed shake before he became fully in command of himself. "Well, I guess I'll make sure to come by and visit again," the proud man relented. Marty Green cracked a wide, exuberant grin. This was better news than he had ever expected. Deep in his son's eyes, he found a touch of fondness there.

"You bet! We'll make plans! But oh, before you go, let's take your granddaughters to the aquarium or something!"

"Hm, well, maybe the theatre?" Mr. Green's son tilted slightly to the side as he smiled, yet spoke with a touch of uneasiness. "There's a new movie coming out that the girls really wanted to see." Matty remained wary, as if Mr. Green might become angry. But Mr. Green returned his son's grin with one of his own.

"Sure son, sure! Anything you want! We'll show you the good 'ol town and some more! Say, have you visited the 'ol shops on the boardwalk? There's always carnival games!"

"Ah, no thank you Dad!" Matty chuckled delicately. "I'm a bit old for those now, but the girls might enjoy them, and I, myself, would enjoy viewing the bay from there."

"So it's another trip! Oh, and you can always come round during holidays!"

"I could," Matty Green smiled back. Mr. Green's young granddaughters watched their father speak to their grandfather for a while. The tender-aged girls watched, anxious at first, then grew bored by the lukewarm neutrality of speech. They took off to bother both Arnold and Gerald. They spun around the room in dizzying circles for no other cause than to amuse themselves by getting attention from strangers.

Some time later during the week, Arnold walked down into the living room of the boarding house. Oscar had all the couch cousins off. Arnold tilted his head at the man.

"Oh, hello Mr. Kokoschka. Lose something?"

"No, just checking for loose change. Say what's for dinner tonight? Fish?"

"Nah," Arnold huffed. "Mr. Green called us and said he would sell us veal chops for half price, so that's what we're going to eat."

"Oooh, really nice discount from a really nice friend!" Oscar declared.

"Maybe," Arnold spoke out calmly. He had yet to see what was going on. He walked on, all the way to the butcher shop down the street.

The shop bell tinkled with simple cheer when Arnold opened the door to Green's Meats. Mr. Green was there, standing behind his counter. His son Matty was there, too, and that was what surprised him so much.

"Matty?" Arnold questioned. "I thought you had gone home last week."

"Good afternoon, Arnold! I did go back. I don't have a whole week off, but I did have a few hours so I took the old subway down here to visit for a few hours. Dad and I are working on something."

"Hm." Arnold squinted at the butcher shop around him. Things did seem different. There were printed posters on the walls and more shelves. "Is this barbecue sauce?" Arnold picked up a bottle from a shelf.

"Yep! This shelf has a variety of seasonings. It's something new we're trying out." Matty beamed.

"Hm," Arnold said before putting the bottle back. "Well, I'm here to pick up those veal chops."

"Here ya go!" said Mr. Green. "And here's a few extra sausages, for you Arnold! You're a growing boy, Arnold, and you need to eat well!"

"Wow. Thank you Mr. Green!" Arnold held up his cash. He startled on his feet.

"Um, Mr, Green is that a new cash register?" Arnold inquired. It printed and he received a receipt with a logo printed on the top.

"Yup!" Mr. Green uttered with satisfaction. "My son Marty here doesn't know meat, but he knows electronics! So he's been helping me get it all set with the bank so you don't have to pay with cash. Of course, I still prefer good old coin, but look! I can put a printed stamp on a check!" Mr. Green held up an endorsed check, proud of the accomplishment. "Plus, we're trying out new things for the shop to boost sales. Little things. Like these supplies for grilling meat!" Mr. Green beamed.

"Wow. I hope it all goes well, for you Mr. Green!" Arnold said, enthused by how things were looking up. He smiled genuinely. He was happy for his friend.

"Yup! Well, things already are in a way!" Mr. Green said with good cheer. He rested a hand on his son's shoulder to receive a modest smile in return.

Mr. Green made sure to see his on off at the local subway station. A chunky man wearing humble trousers and shirt bid farewell to the tall, thin, but broad-shouldered man in a smart business suit. "Thanks for all your hard work, son! Drop by again, from time to time, to check on your 'ol man will you? And say hello to my grandkids for me, will ya?"

"I will, Dad," Matty said. "Count on it!" Matty checked his watch. He picked up his briefcase to board the commuter train. Then he waved goodbye from the window.

Mr. Green smiled. Then he went home to eat his dinner of chicken drumsticks and mashed potatoes. From the window of his apartment he could see Gerald's Field. It was silent at the moment, but he knew all his friends and neighbors would be settling down to dinner, too. They were doing exactly that. Arnold for example, was just now sitting down with his own family to share a meal with the meat they had purchased from him. Rhonda's family was sitting down over a plump, roast chicken, and Helga's family was sitting down over a stew of cubed meat, carrots, and potatoes. Harold's family was eating a whole roast of beef brisket.

Mr. Green was eating alone at a table directly across from his fridge, but he wasn't sad at all. Instead, he had a framed photograph of his adult son with his wife and kids to look at as he ate. The man heard his telephone ring so he answered it.

"Oh, hello? Yeah, Harvey tomorrow's a good night to to play cards, for me! I look forward to it! Oh? Yeah things are fine!" Mr. Green announced to his friend on the other end of the telephone. He rubbed his chin with thought. "Yeah, it seems me and my son are being able to meet each other halfway! Yup, well, see you tomorrow!" He hung up the phone and picked up some silverware to eat his dinner.

This story ends as simply as it began. Mr. Green got up in the morning, walked downstairs and polished his shop until the windows and counters sparkled. He rotated the store's "closed" sign to read "open". Then Mr. Green looked around his butcher shop with pride. Things looked a tiny bit different than they had before, but it was still his butcher shop, and he was still doing something important to him. Life was good. Very good. It was something to smile about. The end.


End file.
